


Unbearable

by Kairat11



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dark, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Just Needed To Write This, Other, Pining Cas, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, cas centered, hints of destiel - Freeform, please don't read this if you suffer from depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 05:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairat11/pseuds/Kairat11
Summary: Cas can't bear it any longer, so he will end it tonight.





	Unbearable

Unbearable is the dolorous agony of a lost soul. Tonight was the night his long contemplation will come to an end. 

"Make it stop, please. Help me. Make it stop." Cas's voice sounded fractured and hollow just like he felt. He prayed to a God who wasn't listening, to a Father who no longer cared. It was funny and devastating knowing his creator had forgotten him, left him behind.

Castiel had no purpose. He had no place in the world.

No matter what his intentions were, good or at least righteous, nothing ever went as planned. He was an inconvenience to Sam, to Dean, to everyone he had ever tried to help. It was as if he was cursed, as if everything that came out of him was destined to fail and destroy everything around him. He was a weapon of cataclysmic proportions and his powers were bringers of doom and death.

"Make it stop," he begged. It weak and defeated supplication that fell on deft ears, and resonated in the empty spaces of his ribs. A pain so acute rammed his crystal heart against his cracked chest. The blood in his veins stung like venom, it made his muscles stiff and his tongue swollen. His mouth felt arid and an bitter taste stamped a grimace on his broken visage.

The cool air up high on the mountain he perched on made a chill ride up his spine and a wave of shudders hit him like a wrecking ball hit a dilapidated building. He felt himself come apart in large pieces; it was heartbreaking to witness himself become a weak thing, when he had been a mighty force. That's what feelings and emotions do to anyone, even an angel that has lost its way. It was true what Dean had said to Sam many years ago, angels aren't equipped to feel, because it breaks them.

Pain, loss, hope, disappointments, feelings of inadequacy and uselessness, fear, shattered dreams and bloodstained hands, and love- each of those things have branded him, affected him more than he ever thought. And he couldn't take it anymore, he wanted it to stop. Every time he thought it would end, something or someone always saved him, and the thing was, he didn't want to be saved.

Cas wanted the pain to stop. Now. At this moment as he looked at the moonless pitch black heavens. The Stars always reminded him of Dean and all his freckles. They gave him comfort when darkness tempted him to dance with it, they brought him back when all he wanted was to evanescence into nothingness and become nothing. Existing, living, feeling- these things were death to him. He had lost his purpose. He couldn't see the light anymore.

"Stop...make it stop." When has he started crying? Shaky fingertips met frigid tears on his cheeks. It was better to be a robotic divine creature than feel anything, good or bad. How did humans survive a lifetime with all this chaos dissecting their souls constantly?

A soft zephyr intruded in his rumination and played with his already messy hair. It dared tried to console him when he didn't want to be soothed. He wished he could strangled it, it made him seethe with fury. Castiel didn't want to be treated gently, all he wanted was lava and fire and tornadoes and hurricanes and sharp ice daggers to stop the pain.

Out nowhere the sky turned gray and cloudy, the stars no longer shone bright and mocked him. Good. A bright bolt of blue lightning traversed the firmament, and left him blind. His weary, bloodshot eyes fluttered closed and he felt a sense of peace when thunder stroke the earth and set some trees on fire. Under his feet the earth rumbled and shook, and a gust of wind prickled the skin of his exposed hands, face, and neck.

Bodily pain had never felt better, but it wasn't enough to appease the red-hot pain brewing in the center of his being. His grace stirred and claimed more. He wished lightning would hit him, that electricity fried his brain and tortured all the slummy thoughts out of his hellish mind. Jimmy's trench coat and tie flapped against his body. A reminder that he was a killer, a destroyer of life and happiness and family. He haven't atoned enough for his sins.

How dare he desired love? How dare he felt love? How dare he want Dean to love him? To want Dean's hallowing kisses and blessed gazes? How dare he wished for friendship? How dare he want Sam to call him friend, brother? How dare he be near them, share air with them, feel warmth and affection towards them? He didn't served anything front then, from anyone. Claire should hate him, maybe she did but was to kind to let it rip out of her heart and free of her lips. Love. Love was too much of a good thing for some creature like him.

Castiel won't be missed. The Winchesters don't need him. He has caused more trouble than good. Claire has Jody and Alex. Humanity doesn't need him. He has nothing to give.

It hurt. Badly. Agonizingly. Deeply.

"Please make it stop."

He wasn't appealing to God. He was begging what was left of his angelic essence to come forth and deal its punishment.

"Vanquish me."

His stiff fingers swirled and produced his angel blade. The frosty feel of deadly metal made goosebumps arise on his skin, the hairs on his nape standing at the impending ending. A river of blood rushed in his ears and his heart drummed fast, excited and expectant- he felt comforted by the thought of ceasing to exist. He'll be but a memory, and with time he'll fade from the minds of everyone that knew him.

"Good," he thought as he brought the sharp tip of his savior to his left wrist, and cut a long gash. A whimper escaped him as he battled human weakness and tears. He has been too long among humans, it had made him a coward. It had taken him this long to garner strength to let go of his hopes for a future away from heaven, and a permanent resident on earth. Not no more.

He couldn't live with the pain. Castiel was a soldier. And a useless soldier who can't do his job can't be not he battlefield and cant protect anyone. What was he if he couldn't do that? It was simple. He was a hindrance, a burden. Castiel didn't feel needed.

Think blood strained out of his wrists and he began to feel weak. Electric blue glowed from his open veins, his true self screamed with relief. Strong teeth bit down on his bottom lip and cut through the sensitive skin as the blade cut his right wrist brusquely. Hands shook violently and fingers became algid, lightning and thunder filled the eerie silent night, scarlet blood poured out of him and soaked his sleeves and the rocky ground beneath him. His body swayed on unbalanced legs and his breaths came out of his mouth ragged and heavy and fast. The forest below him was a Stygian territory, except for the handful of trees still burning bright. His eyes felt heavy-lidded and his lips dry, they tasted metallic when his tongue distractedly licked them.

"This is the end." Too many words clashed inside his head, all of them wanting to surface before they died with him. If he was braver he would have the guts to self-torture himself more, like he deserve. But he was weak and a coward and he couldn't take this meaningless existence anymore.

Vision blurred, he let his eyes gaze up at the heavenly home where he'll never set foot again. Where he never really fitted in, where he lived for millennia and felt a thing, where there were no love, warmth, and all those things that had destroyed him. Feelings-good or bad- hurt profoundly. It's better not to feel anything, because when you feel it hurts, when you care it hurts.

At that moment he smiled despite himself, it was good that dead by an angel blade destroy wholly-goodbye heart, soul, mind, and grace. He was nothing to begin with. He was nobody before or after God molded him. Now he returns to that nothingness. Sempiternally.

At the same time he lifted the tip of the blade to his heart, lightning fractured the sky and a howling thunder clap followed, the wind picked up as if an improvised cyclone and weighty raindrops fell on him in a deluge. No one can escape their fate. No angelic being or God-made human. This was his fate. He had been betided by predestined woes. At least he had experienced free will.

As the blade slowly sank in him, a raw scream, an inhuman screech echoed in the void. Will his tattered wings leave an invisible imprint in the air? Will his siblings celebrate his demise? Will Dean worry when Castiel doesn't return his calls? Will Sam remember him when he eats that molecule-tasting peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Will Claire be saddened by his absence? It doesn't matter, not anymore. They will forget. They will move on.

Rain and tears, screams and thunder, lightning and fire, gray clouds and rough winds- this is how his final moments look. This is how a holy creature says goodbye.

"Finally."

Tremulous hands plunged the angel blade inside his chest to the hilt, and the last thing he sees before his human eyes shut forever and his grace burns out is a sky full of stars twinkling back at him.

 


End file.
